Remembering You
by wishpot
Summary: [AU - Jean and Marco meeting in a new life] Mark (Marco) starts having flashbacks and strange dreams after he briefly meets John (Jean). He's not alone, as John also suffers from traumatic dreams in which he keeps seeing the death of his best friend, well, he just has this feeling it's his best friend...
1. Chapter 1

**[ A/N ] I know I should be trying to finish (or at least decide what to do with) my other fic, but instead I started writing this Jean/Marco thing. This will probably only be 3 or 4 chapters long, if people like it. I actually have another Shingeki no Kyojin AU planned which will be longer and will feature Jean and Marco as the main characters of it, but it might be a while before I start that (sneak peek, Marco plays ice hockey).**

**I should just quickly mention that the inspiration for this came from a tumblr post, and I haven't actually read many Jeanmarco things, so if this is really similar to something else out there, I'm sorry.**

**Also, this is my first time writing in first person :S **

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

_That face. I know that face. _

I sighed and looked out the train window, watching the tunnel lights flash past in a glowing strip and thinking of that face. There was something about it, something eerily familiar, although I'm sure I've never seen that person in my life. I thought about the possibilities of him being some sort of celebrity, but the way he was seemingly out in public with his friends was too casual, at least for someone who'd be famous enough to be recognised by someone who has no idea what they're even famous for. _Why do I recognise his face?_ There's a name that goes with that face and it just _feels _like I should know it, like it's on the tip of my tongue.

The train turns the sharp corner that leads up to my stop, so I drag myself out of my trance and shuffle over to the doors, still racking my brain to try and remember where I could have possibly seen that person before. The fact that I cant stop agonising over remembering makes me think that, who ever this person is, must have had some sort of importance in my life. No, I _know_ that they did. At least,_ I think_ I know. The painful, loud screech of the breaks sounds throughout the train as it pulls into the station, doors hissing with relief as they slide open. I step off the train, readjusting my schoolbag over my shoulder as I fish around for my train ticket in my pocket. I line up in the queue of people moving autonomously through the ticket gates, holding my ticket so I'm ready to zip through without holding up the line and breaking this perfectly oiled machine.

The strange thing is, I can picture his smiling face, an expression I'm sure I didn't see as I carelessly ran into him. When I looked up to apologise, he seemed to be staring back at my face with the same confusion, as if he recognised me as well. I wonder if he's thinking about me…

I sigh as I unlock the front door to my home.

"I'm home," I call out, but no one answers. Looking up, I notice that the house is completely dark. I dump my school bag by the door and drop my keys into the front pocket. "Hello?" I squint as my eyes try to adjust to the darkness.

The lights suddenly snap on, and I'm nearly scared to death by the streamers that burst towards me from three directions.

"Happy Birthday!" my family call out. I roll my eyes, smiling stupidly. They do this every year, yet I still manage to think that they've forgotten and convince myself that I'm too old to care about my birthday. My little, three year old, sister runs over and is followed by my parents.

"Marco!" she calls out enthusiastically, slurring the syllables together.

"Polo!" my dad responds. I roll my eyes again. Ever since my sister took to calling me 'Marco', a nickname I'm quite fond of, dad hasn't missed a beat. He's lame like that.

"Daaad," I protest. He walks over and ruffles my hair while my little sister crash tackles my leg, nearly causing me to fall. I'm beaming like an idiot, but I can't begin to describe how happy it makes me just to be around my family. I remember I once told that to my dad and he mentioned something about 'not having great experiences with family in my past life,' which I just brushed off as being some stupid 'dad joke'. The image of that face pops back into my head, and I start thinking about that comment again, wondering if perhaps I knew that person in a past life. Things like that seem trivial, but I honestly don't have any clue as to why I recognised his face as if we should have been best friends.

Mum comes out of the kitchen with a small cake, which was obviously decorated by my sister, and I'm distracted once again from my train of thought. I give her a questioning look as if to say 'cake before dinner, really mum?' but she just smiles.

"Happy birthday Mark!" She places the cake down on the coffee table in our lounge room and begins to light the candles. My sister prances energetically around the room, pointing at the cake.

"Look Marco, I did the pictures all by my self!"

"They're great, Millie." I place my hand on her head and bend down so we're at the same eye level. I smile and raise my eyebrows, "Did you really do them all by yourself?"

"Yep!"

"_Really?_"

"…" she looks down, "Mumma helped a teensy bit."

I laugh and lift her on to my lap and face the cake with its, now brightly glowing, candles. We pose for the standard birthday photo, and then I tap Millie on the shoulder.

"Will you help me blow the candles out?" I ask her. She nods. "Ok, on three. One…"

"Two," Millie's cheerful voice counts.

"Three!" we say together and blow out the candles. Millie claps and giggles. She stands up and announces her wish,

"I wish for Marco to always be my big brother because he's the bestest brother ever!"

"Ah, Millie! You're not supposed to say your wish outloud!"

I take the small slice of cake that mum hands me and I look over to the clock. A small sigh escapes me as I remember the homework I have to get done tonight. I apologetically excuse myself, grab my school bag and head up to my room. Mum says that dinner will be at seven, so I have more than enough time to finish everything. I probably could have left it to later, but I hate letting my work pile up and I like to get things done. I set my books down on my desk and open up to the page in the text book on calculus first principles. I don't mind maths, but sometimes it's long and repetitive, and even when I understand how to do it, I still have to answer all the questions. First principles is a killer. I've only done about five questions, but I'm starting to fall asleep. I glance sideways, looking at the clock.

"Just five minutes…" I mumble as I allow my head to fall to the table. It's been a long day.

* * *

I'm flying through the air and my heart beat is racing. I can hear the loud thundering of giant footsteps behind me, but I don't dare turn around. I can't bring myself to look. I don't think I've ever been this scared in my life. I keep looking around, looking for someone, but I don't see anyone. There is a metallic smell in the air, and I'm pretty sure it's blood. Sure enough, when I look down at myself I'm drenched in it. I notice that in my hands are two blades which are also covered in it. I can hear the footsteps getting closer and closer, and I'm urging myself to keep flying forward. _How is it that I'm moving this way? _I notice that I'm subconsciously controlling my movement with my hands, but as soon as I make that revelation the 'auto pilot' switch in my brain flicks off and I'm left to my own wits. I'm sure I've pissed myself by now, but I don't even care. I squeeze down on the triggers in my hand, praying to God that the grappling wires connect with something to pull me forward and out of the way of the monster following behind. I can feel it's hot breath on my back now. It probably could have gotten me ages ago if it had used it's hands, but it's trying to catch me with it's mouth. It's just playing with me. In a split decision, I shoot one wire out to the left, hoping to pull myself out to the side to throw him off. Going forward is getting me nowhere. I jerk sideways, but the thing lunges forward and bites down. I black out as I fall to the ground, smashing into a building wall.

When I come to, that face is there. He's looking at me, and his eyes are pained. _Is he crying? _He walks towards me, shaking his head.

"No… No… Marco?" He kneels down in front of me and places his hand on my left shoulder. "Marco..? Hey, Marco? I'm right here… answer me!" Marco. He's calling me Marco like my sister does. I try to reach out my arm, but it doesn't move. _It's not even there… I didn't make it in time. _I need to let him know that I'm fine. I'm right here! I try to speak, or to move, but I can't. _Jean… _His name is Jean. I remember now. _How could I have forgotten?_ Jean, don't cry. I'm fine, just… please… stop… crying…

"You can't be gone… We were going to join the Military Police… Marco…"

Reality came crashing down like a tonne of bricks. I'm nothing more than a fading consciousness. As I begin to realise this, it feels like I'm being drawn further and further away from him. He stands up and wipes the tears falling from his eyes with the back of his hand. The sadness in his eyes suddenly replaced with a vengeful fire. He salutes, and I notice that he's wearing the same thing I am… was?

"I won't forget you," he says before he's joined by another soldier. I smile inwardly. _I won't forget you either. _

* * *

I shoot upright in my chair, having a mini heart attack as it tips backwards before I'm able to adjust my weight to stop it from falling. My face is wet and my eyes feel puffy. I realise that I've been crying. I look over to the clock again: 6:55pm. Small segments of my dream are played back in my mind, but not the entire thing. _Such an odd dream… _The thing that shook me up was that the dream had felt so real. _But I guess all dreams feel real while you're in them… _

I get up from my desk and wipe off my eyes, I don't want my parents to be worried over nothing. I dismiss the dream as a weird reaction to having sweets at this time of day and head down stairs for dinner. When I walk into the kitchen, my mum points out that I'm limping. Come to think of it, the right side of my body feels kinda numb and weird for an unexplained reason. I inform her of this and she, as usual, freaks out. She's a doctor, a paranoid one at that, and begins checking me for signs of 'premature stroke'. I reassure her, by telling her it was probably because I'd fallen asleep at my desk, and she stops fussing.

We're having jacket potatoes for dinner tonight, which is unfortunate because I've never really liked potatoes that much. I hope my reaction isn't too obvious when the steaming, stuffed potato is placed in front of me, but my dad picked up on it.

"I guess you must've eaten too many potatoes in your past life, and now you're sick of them," he remarks with his, more common than not, 'dad joke' tone. I roll my eyes again and sigh. He's obsessing over this whole past life thing. Either that, or he was just parodying himself and his previous remark. It gets me thinking though, about the dream and everything else. Could it have been, not a weird dream, but a memory? In that case, was it normal to have memories of your past life? It just seems… impossible… implausible.

"Mark? Mark. Hey, Mark!" I realise I'd zoned out and turn my attention back to my dad.

"Ah, sorry. Yeah?"

"I forgot to tell you, this letter came in the mail today." He slides a letter across the dining table and I pick it up, expecting it to be birthday wishes from a family member, but I realising it wasn't when noticed my school's logo printed on the envelope. I look at my parents dubiously,

"I haven't done anything.. wrong have I?"

My dad starts laughing, "No, nothing like that. It's just a reminder about career interviews and university selection. Have you been thinking about what you want to do with your future?"

"I'm want to join the Military Police," I state as if it's a default answer I'd given so many times I didn't even need to think about it. My parents stare at me, blinking with confusion. I realise that, I too, had no clue as to why I'd said what I'd said. I put my hand to my mouth and furrowed my brows, staring at my other hand which lay on the table.

"I- I have no idea why I just said that…" I admit, and my parents exchange concerned glances. We sat in a brief silence before my sister spoke.

"If Marco's joining the milohary police then I'm joining the milohary police."

"Military," my mum corrects, "but Mark isn't joining the military police because there isn't a 'military police'…" she looks back at me, her eyes possessing clear concern for my sanity, as well as a little annoyance for encouraging my sister to think of joining something which sounded dangerous. I mouth an apology to her and quickly finish my dinner, not giving them the opportunity to question me further on the subject. I excused myself when I finished on the basis of wanting to get an early night.

My bed croaks under the sudden weight as I fall forwards onto it, landing on my face. I roll over and cover my face with a pillow, hugging onto it with my arms. I think about the dream and about my odd slip of tongue in the kitchen. I remember _that person_, and suddenly I recall him mentioning Military Police in the dream, I just can't remember the context it was mentioned in. Maybe it was just the dream that subconsciously caused me to say that I wanted to join the Military Police, but it felt like more than that. I don't know why, but when I said it, I really had _wanted_ to join. My thoughts stir back to the person from the train station. _His name… what was his name again? I remember hearing it in the dream… Jean! His name was Jean… is Jean? He was calling me Marco, like my sister does. I have always liked the fact that my sister called me that.. could it have anything to do with…_

I let out an exasperated sigh. I'm probably just reading in to this too much. Coincidences happen all the time and I probably only saw him in the dream because I was thinking about his face all afternoon. That would make sense. The right side of my body starts to tingle again, so I roll over onto it and flick off my bedside light. I don't bother to change into my pyjamas.

_Jean..._

* * *

**[ A/N ] So... should I continue? The next chapter will be from Jean's perspective. **

**I love reviews, so don't hold back. Even if you want to offer constructive criticism. Honestly, I think the tense I wrote in was weird, and might have fluctuated... so yeah, let me know if you find mistakes.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**(Oh, and if you're wondering why I've rated it 'T' there'll probably be course language in future chapters.)**


	2. Chapter 2

**[ A/N ] Here's the next chapter! **

**Jean's (well, John's) perspective.**

**I have this headcanon where if Jean and Marco had siblings, Marco would have a much younger sister which is why he's really responsible and mature, and Jean would have 2 older brothers who bully him which is why he acts like a bit of a try hard and a showoff. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoy. Oh and thanks to everyone who's favourited, followed and reviewed!**

* * *

"Hey, John, are you alright? John?"

"Huh…? Oh, yeah, I'm fine…" is the reply I give, but I doubt it's believable because I'm _completely_ aware of the cold, wet sensation running down my face. I reach out a hand and bring it to touch the small moist tracks on my cheeks, staring outwardly at nothing in particular, struggling to contemplate why my emotions have suddenly decided to act up as they have. I glance over my shoulder, trying to get a glimpse of the person who just ran into me, but he's already buried in the masses of people rushing for their respective trains. When I turn back to face my friends, I notice they're all looking at each other oddly; I guess I'd be doing the same if one of my friends started crying uncontrollably in the middle of a train station. I say crying because it really is just that. I'm not sobbing or wailing, nor am I feeling particularly sad for that matter. It's like my eyes have just decided to leak - like my subconscious is crying, but it's going unheard and unseen by my entire being except my tear ducts. I feel like such an idiot but, once the dam breaks, nothing can stop the river from running.

"Are you sure you're ok?" my friend Erin asks, reaching out and placing her hand on my shoulder, using her thumb to wipe the tears off my face. I shake my head and wipe my eyes using the heels of my palms. Blinking a few times, I suck in a deep breath through my nose - as if the action of doing so will somehow suck the tears back into my head - and smile, awkwardly brushing Erin away.

"Seriously, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

I don't have anything _particularly_ against Erin, but she can sometimes be a bit 'touchy-feely', and believe me, _I'm a guy_ but it still gets annoying. Like, really annoying. She's just completely on top of everyone… it pisses me off. I'm especially ticked off because her 'concern' seemed more to me like 'I don't really care, I'm just using this as an excuse to flirt in front of Seamus and make him jealous'. That's my theory anyway. I try to ignore my frustration as she grabs my arm and drags me towards the rest of the group, who've already started walking ahead. We catch up and Seamus claps me on the back before hooking his arm around my neck.

"You okay bro?" he asks.

"God, stop. I'm fine. Leave me alone." I don't know why I'm being so defensive about this. It should be easy for me to just explain that _even I _didn't know what had made me cry, but something nagging at the back of my mind was telling me that the reason was important. To be honest, I've had a strange nagging thought all day, like I'm forgetting something really important. I've already asked heaps of people whether June the 16th has any significance at all, but no one knew of any sort of special event I could be forgetting - I didn't even have homework due. I sigh, rather loudly, unintentionally gaining the attention of the entire group.

"John, if you're not feeling alright you don't have to come with us," Erin offers. Most people would probably see that as an act of kindness, but I see it more along the lines of 'if you leave, it'll just be Ash, Colleen, me, and Seamus - a double date!' As much as I'd love to stay just to spite her, I decide that it'd probably be best for me to leave anyway. Plus, I don't know how long it's been there, but my head is sporting a monster headache, and dealing with Erin is not helping. I thank her for her for being _so considerate_ and say goodbye at the next corner. My house isn't a long walk from here, but I don't really want to go home because my older brothers are a massive pain in the ass. I decide to take the long way, after all, I could use some time to my self.

There's a quirky little florist on this route home which I've always noticed. Today, I stop outside it and peer in through the door. The scent of multiple different flowers hits my nose and I suddenly feel like I _need_ to buy flowers. I know that sounds weird, but it's like there's a strange force compelling me to do so, and before I know it, I'm inside the shop. _Maybe it's got something to do with what I've felt like I've forgotten…_ The old lady behind the counter peers over her glasses and smiles.

"Buying something for your girlfriend?"

"Something like that…" I mumble heedlessly while my eyes roam from flower to flower. My attention is suddenly caught by these bright pink, _freckled_, flowers. I walk over to them slowly and rub the petals between my thumb and forefinger.

"They're stargazer lilies," an old voice says from directly behind me. Of course, I jump. _When the hell did she get there?! _I open my mouth to say something along the lines of 'oh' or 'cool', but the word that comes out was not what'd I'd planned, or expected.

"Marco…"

"Sorry?" the old woman asks.

"Uh, nothing. I'll take a bunch of these," I say, pointing to the stargazers. _Jesus, what the hell? Where did that come from?!_

I pay for the flowers and leave the shop, thanking the old woman with a wave. It's not very late, and the last thing I want is to be seen with a bunch of flowers by my brothers, so I decide to cross the road and sit on the river bank. I pick a spot where the grass isn't too wilted and crash to the ground, letting out an exhausted sigh. Whether my headache had actually gone away, or whether I'd just been too distracted at the flower shop to notice it, it's definitely making itself known now. I lift my knees and rest my head on top of them, flowers still clasped in my hands. To anyone walking past, I probably look like someone who'd just suffered a harsh rejection.

My head feels like it's literally throbbing, like my heart has suddenly swapped positions with my brain and is beating so hard it could almost smash through my skull. I groan and re adjust my position so that I'm lying on my back with my arm draped over my forehead. That name. For some reason, my mind keeps on replaying that name over and over. _Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco. _The agony is only accented by this frustrating repetition of the name, a name I _know _I should know, but it isn't accompanied by a face or any memories. Maybe it's the emptiness, the broken memory, that's causing my head to feel like I've suffered a severe head trauma.

"Fucking hell…." I groan as I massage my temples to try and gain some form of relief. _Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco, Marco. _Constant repetition. The name is boring holes in my brain.

"God dammit, who the fuck is Marco?!" I shout at the flowers in my hand. Suddenly, the memory from earlier, from the train station, resurfaces. I put my hand to my mouth as my eyes start to water again_ (god, I'm so pathetic)_. That person was Marco. I _know_ it was. Who ever Marco is, though, is still a mystery to me. _Why is it that when ever I remember him I start crying?! Jesus, what kind of fucked up trauma is associated between us? _I think that as a joke, of course, but I can't help but worry that it could possibly be true; that we'd experienced something traumatic and I've completely repressed the memories of it until now… At least my headache has calmed down to a point where it's physically bearable. The breeze off the river is cool, and the rustle of grass against my ears is calming. I soon forget about the remaining pain in my head, allowing my eyes to close.

* * *

I'm walking around in a large town, which is surprisingly familiar. It smells like decay and blood. I guess that's understandable, seeing as there are bodies lying everywhere. In a normal situation, one would probably be asking themselves 'God, what happened here?!' but this setting doesn't seem out of place to me, like it's familiar, or at least expected. It's still fucking awful though. I feel like shit. My legs are killing me, I'm covered in cuts and bruises, and the site of dead, mangled and mutated, bodies doesn't exactly help me to feel any less shitty. I suddenly remember the purpose to my wandering - I'm looking for Marco. I remember he got separated from me at some point, but I remember being to scared about my own ass to make note of where he disappeared to after we finally managed to re-gas. I turn the corner into another street. The body clean up team is already working here. I'd consider asking them if they'd seen Marco, but I don't recognise any of them, so I presume they wouldn't know who he was.

_Dammit, where the hell is- Holy fucking Sina. No. _

I squint my eyes, praying to every god in existence that I've just mistaken him for someone else. I haven't. I throw up a little in my mouth - who wouldn't after seeing that. Seeing any human missing an entire half of their body would be horrible enough, but when that person is your best friend… I shake my head in disbelief as I get closer, eyes widened in terror.

"No… No… Marco?" I find myself saying, desperately hoping for someone or something to prove me wrong. I kneel down in front of him, and reach out my arm to place it on his shoulder and shake him awake, just like I always did when he'd sleep in during training.

"Marco..? Hey, Marco? I'm right here… answer me!" _He's a deep sleeper. It takes a few shakes, but he'll wake up… he'll wake up. _The tears I was holding back in futile hope suddenly start flowing. I can feel my body shaking as I try to stifle my sobs so as not to make a scene. "You can't be gone… We were going to join the Military Police… Marco…" _Dammit, wake up. Wake up. I won't accept this. You can't be gone. What the hell?! You said I'd make a great leader, but a leader is nothing without their right hand man. That was supposed to be you, Marco! You're my right hand man… You're my … I'll fucking slaughter them. I'll fucking destroy all the titans. Dammit, Marco… I won't let you die in vain… _

I sigh shakily and stand up, wiping the tears from my face. There's no point crying. This is a war, and it's nearly impossible to get through one without losing someone you care about. I have to move forward and contribute my best to humanities efforts. If I let something like this hold me back, I won't be able to let Marco rest in peace. I take a deep breath and salute to Marco as a final 'goodbye' and a show of my respect for him. I really did respect him. If it wasn't for him, I probably wouldn't have had the courage to move on. I might have even sacrificed myself to a titan…

"I won't forget you," I tell him. I swear, no matter how many lives I live, I will never forget him.

* * *

I bolt upright on the grass as I wake suddenly. I'm crying, _again. _This time it's from the excruciating pain of suddenly remembering a large series of traumatic and tragic events.

_Holy shit… _

I glance down at my palms. Both my hands are there. This is real.

"Holy shit…" I say out loud this time. I remember now, I said I would and I did. _He's ok… _

_Today's Marco's birthday… _

* * *

**__****[ A/N ] Ahh, to be honest I think Jean was a little OOC... I'm better at writing for Marco (because I rp as him often)... Also, I tried to correct it but I'm tired so there's probably heaps of mistakes.**

**Anyway, please review! (I'm going to try and wrap it up next chapter, but I'm no good at endings ah)**


	3. Chapter 3

"John? John! Are you listening to what I'm saying?!"

I stare mindlessly into the bowl of cornflakes in front of me, contemplating bringing another dreaded spoonful to my mouth. I haven't been very hungry recently, although I guess that isn't exactly _unreasonable_. The reason, however, is not exactly something I can just _explain_ to anyone because I doubt anyone would understand, hell, _I_ don't even understand. I'd probably get chucked in the looney bin if I tried to tell anyone, especially because we sure as hell haven't learnt about _that_ in history. Yet, I remember it as clear as day, down to almost every detail except moments before my presumed death. It's weird to know how you've died, almost as weird as it is to know that you've lived a previous life. I guess I don't know _exactly _how it happened, but I can remember the gruesome incidents leading up to it, down to the very pain I felt. I'll admit I was completely freaked out when I came to this realisation, but I've decided it's best, for my own mental health, if I let it go. That past was a long time ago, and I shouldn't let it affect this, _almost _completely unrelated, present. Completely unrelated, that is, except for Marco. Of all the people I'd mourned over, his death affected me the most. In a way, I guess, it helped me to survive, but _dammit _I would have preferred for him to have survived along with me. Just knowing that he's out there, alive, is giving me butterflies. I guess life isn't that cruel…

Suddenly, a glob of milk and cereal hits me in the face and I'm torn from my thoughts. I look up to see, as expected, my older brother glaring at me mischievously, holding his spoon like a catapult. I glare back as I use the back of my hand to wipe the cereal off my face.

"What the fuck was that for, shit head?!" I ask him aggressively, trying to sound intimidating. It doesn't work, of course. It'd take more than that to intimidate Zach.

"Wouldn't you like to know, _horse face." _he replies, snidely.

"The fuck did you just call me!?" I say as I stand up from the table, loading my spoon up with ammunition. Fights like these aren't uncommon between me and my brothers and you have to do as much damage as you can before they get broken up - otherwise it's not satisfactory. I've always had instinct to start fights… I guess I know where it comes from now.

"EXCUSE ME, JOHN!" my mother shouts, turning from the kitchen sink and giving me 'the look'. "Don't talk to your older brother like that!"

"Yeah John, don't talk to your older brother like that," Zach imitates. "Oh, and _by the way_, I did that because mum was asking you a question and you weren't answering her, _jackass." _That comment makes me feel a little guilty. Mum has done a good job raising us on her own, and we all respect her for that. We may fight all the time, but none of us like upsetting mum. In fact, the only time I can cooperate with my brothers is when we're arranging something for her, like a birthday present. I mumble an apology and look guiltily at mum, who just smiles and wipes the remaining drops of milk from my face.

"Mum, I'm not a baby," I say as I wave her off.

"I was just wondering if you're okay. You've been spaced out lately, and your appetite has dropped. If there's anything you need to talk to me about… "

"I'm fine, just got a lot on my mind. You don't need to worry." She looks concerned, but shrugs and goes back over to the sink. I sigh and force my cereal down. _If only they knew… _

School breezes past, but I'm pretty sure I obtained no knowledge from any class, as I was too distracted by other things. In ancient history my curiosity got the better of me and I asked my teacher if he knew anything about the fall of Shiganshina or the Battle of Trost. It kinda backfired though because he just looked at me as if I was an idiot and sent me outside for disturbing the class. The more I think about those events, the more confused and unsure I get. I'm starting to feel like this life isn't my real one, and everything about it is false. For all I know, that could be true. I don't know whether I should be living as John or Jean, _heck,_ I don't even know _who _I'd prefer to live as. Nothing seems whole… I've considered seeing a psychic, but it's probably all bull shit. I've been thinking about these sorts of things the past three days, and I wonder if Marco's been going through the same thing. He was always more rational than me, even seemingly omniscient at times, so I doubt he'd be that bothered by this sort of thing. He'd probably just accept everything as fate and move on with his new life without regret.

_But what if he doesn't remember? Or what if that wasn't Marco… what if it was only his uncanny resemblance that triggered my memories, and he really has nothing to do with me?_

As much as I want to see him and be with him again, it's thoughts like these that make me think it might be best just to try and forget. If I dwell on it, the disappointment will only be harsher. I guess I shouldn't rule out the possibility that this whole situation could be just some weird… mental disorder, or something. _Like schizophrenia… or bipolar? It'd help if I actually knew the symptoms… _

I follow my group of friends to the train station like a mindless sheep. It's only been three days, but in that small time period I've gone from being 'loud-and-obnoxious-John' to 'quiet-and-spaced-out-John'.

We board the train and take seats near the window. My friends are all gossiping about the latest relationship in the year, or something, but I'm not really listening. I can't help flinching each time the train passes a large light in the tunnel, as the sudden flash is slightly akin to that of a titan shifter upon transformation. My hands move on default towards my waist as I flinch, either reaching for a sword or a flare gun. By now I think my friends are probably weary of my odd behaviour, as they're looking at me weirdly each time I jump. The light flashes past and I flinch again. _Damn those titan shifters giving me this bloody nervous twitch… _

"I hope they all burnt in hell…" I think, but the looks on my friends faces suggest that I've actually gone and said it out loud. They stare at me suspiciously, eyes full of uncertainty. Flustered, I muster an excuse which I can presume goes down with them well enough, as they all resume the conversation.

When we get off the train, my friends inform me that 'Friday karaoke night' will be going ahead as usual, but I tell them that I'm not interested.

"Suit yourself," Seamus shrugs and heads off with the rest of the group, leaving me on my own in the train station. I take a seat on one of the benches adjacent to the ticket gates and rest my head on my hands, willing myself to get over everything so that I can get on with my life. Fate isn't making it easy for me as I notice, out of the corner of my eye, a familiar face approaching the ticket gates. If my assumptions are correct, it's Marco. I consider walking over to him and asking him directly, but nerves lock my body in place and I can't bring myself to do it. Suddenly, his gaze is directed right upon me. I'm slow to react, but I sit up straight and smile at him, waving my hand. His head tilts to one side, like it always did when he was confused, before he turns around and heads through the gates, giving no reaction to suggest that he'd recognised me. My heart sinks. Not only do I feel like an idiot, but I suddenly, despite being surrounded by thousands of busy people, feel very alone. The one thing, from my memories as Jean, that has predominantly taken over my thoughts is that I missed Marco. That I still miss Marco… Seeing him stare at me like I was a complete stranger was almost worse than the memories themselves. I finally thought I'd have the chance to be with him again, but if he doesn't remember it wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't have someone to share the burden of these horrendous memories with. My head tells me that I should just give up, move on and forget about it, but my heart is screaming at me to do something. Giving up is not like me, Marco pointed that out himself.

Running as fast as I can, I manage to make it just in time to get on to his train. I board the car next to his and position myself so I can see him through the window of the door which connects the carriages. I watch him, as subtly as possible, and come to the conclusion that he _has_ to be Marco, even if he doesn't remember it himself. I notice the parallel similarities of his posture and even the way he moves, right down to his subtle habits and twitches. To be honest, I didn't even know I was aware of them… I guess when you share everything with a person, even a bed, you get to know them pretty well.

I start to feel disappointed. _Was I not special enough to him to be remembered? _

I brush the thought out of my mind as I notice him get up to leave the train. I follow him, making sure to keep enough distance so I don't seem too suspicious.

We're walking at a pretty consistent pace when Marco suddenly stops. I worry that he might have noticed he was being followed, so I duck down behind a building on the corner of the block and peek around to see him crouched on the ground. He shifts his position a little, and I can see he's petting a small kitten. He's laughing to himself, and I can feel my face heat up a little. I knew he had a thing for cute things, and he looks so happy right now. Seeing him look that happy kinda makes me doubt that he could possibly have these awful memories. I attempt to stifle a small chuckle, but he hears and turns around. I clap my hand to my mouth and press my back against the wall, cursing myself for making a noise. I can hear his footsteps getting closer, but he stops before he reaches the corner, so I risk taking a peek and see him picking a flower which was growing out of the sidewalk. Relieved, I get back to following him and, although I feel like a massive stalker, I can't bring myself to stop.

We finally make it to his house and he's greeted at the door by a small girl, who I presume is his sister, and he gives her the flower he picked. I kinda feel a little jealous, which is completely stupid because _technically _I don't even know him. I guess the thing I'm most jealous of isn't the flower, but the smile he gave her along with it. I always _longed _to see that smile on his face. There was something about it which would suddenly make training feel less difficult, and the dire situations we faced seem less severe. The only thing that took precedence over seeing that smile was punching Eren in his smug know-it-all face, an action which unfortunately had the opposite effect on Marco's facial expression. He'd worry that I'd get myself in trouble and lose my chance at joining the military police.

I smile at the memory of my best friend. I want to have that friendship again. Once he's inside, I walk closer to the house and stop when I'm directly in front of it. It would be so easy for me to knock on the door and see how everything plays out, but I'm scared of the possibility that he might not remember me. I ball my fists and take a deep breath as I walk past the front gate and up to the door. I lift my head and raise my hand, readying it to knock. I take another deep breath and close my eyes, turning my head away as I pull back my arm. I move it forward towards the door, but I stop just before my fist makes contact and lower my arm defeatedly. _I can't do it… _

I hang my head and leave the property, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I pull out my smart phone and glance at the time. _I should probably head home… It's getting late. _Just as I'm about to put my phone back in my pocket, I take one last glance at the house and decide to write the address dow, just in case. _God, I'm such a stalker… _

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**__****[ A/ N ] Too lazy to edit paragraphs... **

**First person is hard, I'm glad I got to practice it, but I think I'll be writing in 3rd for my big jeanmarco AU (which might include one-shot side-story features on other characters) (This is going to be a huge mistake, because I've got year 12 starting in 3 weeks and I'm already in the middle of writing a 30,000+ word fic, but I really want to write this AU - I think I've bitten off more than I can chew...)**

**As you can probably tell, this isn't the last chapter. I'm thinking there might actually be two more now... I don't know ahh**

**Thanks for your reviews guys! I love them! And thanks for following and favouriting too!**

**ALSO SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE A FREE!/AVATAR: THE LAST AIR BENDER CRACK FIC WHERE HARU DISCOVERS WATER BENDING. **

**(the last thing I need is another fic on my belt. I also have a half finished Ereri one-shot which I can't end D: )**


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